Last Smile
by MK26
Summary: "I've finally got a smile from you, but why does it seemed hurt? I... don't want it to be your last one." HIATUS.
1. One last present

**Hai guys! Enjoy your reading, let's hope I get reviews :3 I've tried my best. Thaaaanks for Michelle, mah offline beta reader :D There is going to be a chapter 2... hopefully?**

* * *

It was cloudy and there was barely any sunlight from the London sky. Arthur Kirkland, or more commonly known to other nations as England, was strolling in the streets, head looking forward without any particular target. There was going to be a world meeting tomorrow, and it was in his place this time.

It was Alfred's birthday after the day of the meeting, the day when America became independent. Arthur wasn't exactly looking forward to it, as it brought back too many memories he had tried to bury away. The American doesn't seem to notice Arthur's discomfort on that day though, as he was too hyped up about his day of independence. He would throw a party which he invited everyone, even the micro nation Sealand. Alas, aimless strolling had in the end brought Arthur back to his house.

It was situated in the outskirts of the capital. The surroundings of it were quiet, as his neighbours would be staying at least miles away. A good thing was that he would be able to get the peace he had always wanted, a bad thing would be that if he was in danger, no one would come to his rescue, unless they had supernatural hearing.

As he walked down the garden path towards his front door, he spot Alfred's birthday invitation peeking out from his mailbox. With a sigh, he pulled it out from its original spot, carefully holding it as to not crease it. After opening his white wooden front door, he left the letter on a glass coffee table, which on top of the table was hundreds of invitations, from the first party until the current party. All the letters that he had rejected the invitation. Arthur sighed again and walked into his room.

There was a small wood block and some old crafting tools on top of the writing table. He sat himself down on the old leather chair and started his work. With great concentration, time seemed to have passed without his knowing. After a great amount of detailed carvings and shaping, he finally took a good look at his newly created work.

The originally cylinder wooden block had been carved into a figurine that looked exactly like Alfred. It even had its famous flight jacket on it, colours included for various reasons. Even after decades, it seems that Arthur's workmanship skills had not lost its original quality. He grabbed a small cardboard box under his table and carefully placed the wooden Alfred in it, wrapping it up with a present wrapper. He looked at the present and had not bothered to write his name on it. It's fine, no one need to remember who gave him this present.

"Alfred had probably threw his box of toy soldiers. Or maybe he had lost it."

Arthur turned his head to look outside the window. The sky was turning into a flaming red sunset. It was somewhat soothing yet sad to see that colour, since it used to his favourite colour and it, at the same time, reminded him of the war. He stood up and brushed his hand over the crease of his uniform, slightly straightening it and went to the kitchen.

A bottle of scotch laid on the bar, as if it was waiting for him all along. He greedily poured into a cup and savoured its taste slowly. The scotch substitute for his dinner, as he wasn't bothered by the fact he didn't make any dinner. He continued to observe the colour of the sky outside.

It had already turned reddish purple as it started to rain. Guess he wouldn't go out there to water his beautiful roses today, as the rain was doing his daily work for him. He wouldn't do his paper works today as well, he doesn't trust himself to be concentrating on those right now. He was rather glad that his boss would actually understand him and sometimes even let him have a few days off, as his boss noticed the usual neat paper works were a mess during these days of the year. And so, the paper stacks had remained the same as a week ago.

When night came, it became colder from the drop of temperature outside. The coldness helped nothing with the tiredness; it only made Arthur more tired. Soon he found bliss in the dreamless sleep that he welcomed.

The morning came, and Arthur woke up early. He was an early person but not exactly a morning person. Still, he needed to get ready for the World Meeting in his place. He adjusted his tie while looking in the mirror. He looked wasted, with bags under his bloodshot eyes. His normally messy hair was even messier. He frowned at himself and washed his face again before striding out to the place of meeting.

"It seems like I'm early again." He commented to himself, as he walked into the empty room.

Staring into the space, he took no notice to the nations that proceeded to walk into the meeting room. They sat into their respective seats as they waited for the last nation to attend. As usual it was America with his "grand" entrance. And again, it was about ways to solve global warming, since the last few meetings to solve this problem had ended messily.

"Angleterre? Are you fine?" Francis asked after staring at the all-too-quiet Arthur. He was, for the first time, not actually objecting Alfred's plans of saving the Earth from global warming. Said nation was staring at the ceiling, his forest green eyes lost in his daydream. Francis could even feel the meeting being quieter than its usual self.

"Of course, frog!" Arthur seemed to have suddenly snapped out of his trance. He looked tired for a moment but he quickly turned away to look at whichever nation is speaking now. When Arthur found out it was Alfred and his hopeless ideas, he started insulting again. Francis sighed and he went back to his harassing antics, but still keeping an occasional eye at the green-eyed nation.

The meeting was finally over, once again not being able to achieve its goal from the bickering of many different countries. Everyone left as soon as possible, wanting to get a rest from the meeting in their respective hotels. Arthur and Alfred were the last ones to leave.

"Happy early birthday, you git." Arthur shoved the small present into Alfred's arms. He seemed to smile a tiny bit at him, and although it looked a bit like a scowl, Alfred smiled back his goofy smile.

"Thanks, dude! Are you gonna come my parteh this time?" Alfred asked the retreating figure of Arthur. The latter just continued to walk on as if he had not heard Alfred's question. Alfred made a confused look, but he was determined to make Arthur come this year.

Arthur had actually walked home from the building, even if it was a long trip. He didn't feel any soreness when he lied on his bed. Again, his heads were swarming with those thoughts that haunted him the whole day. He covered his face with his arm as he tried to flinch away from his mind.

He didn't need anyone. _Wrong_, he thought, _the truth is that no one needs you_.

Such a long time, he had found himself so lonely until he was actually talking to himself in the head. There wasn't any voice which answered of course, for Arthur knew if he was going insane or not. Many occasions he had wanted to cry but he found no tears, only his heart ached. He would be very quiet, but no one notices anyone.

He was just tired. Tired of having to put up with everything that was thrown into his way. Tired of having to put a mask of him being a sarcastic person than a man who was broken so many times. Tired of everyone expecting the best out of him. Tired of everyone who judged him.

Arthur Kirkland was tired of himself. Not England, for he would never hate his beloved country. He was tired of himself, as Arthur Kirkland. No one seemed to notice beyond the personification of England anyways.

Many times he would wonder about a world without Arthur Kirkland. A world if England was another better person than him. Maybe he would make it happen, but he knew he wouldn't be able to see their reactions. It didn't matter, for no one would notice.

He pulled open his bedside drawer. Inside laid a white bottle, a bottle filled with pills. Arthur slowly reached for it and took it out. He had already written a note, how long ago was the note written, he didn't remember.

Pouring out a handful, he swallowed them with a gulp. His heart ached, but again there weren't any tears to relieve the pain. He lied down onto his bed as his vision slowly blackened. He wondered if anyone would even find the note. He felt drowsy and he closed his eyes for the one last time.

Alfred was at Arthur's doorstep. He was going to convince Arthur to go to his party for the first time in centuries. He found the spare key which was commonly placed under the doormat, and pushed open the door.

It was eerily quiet; there wasn't any sound that indicated Arthur was home. Heck, even the lights are all off. _Perhaps Iggy is asleep_, Alfred thought as he went up the stairs as quietly as possible. He still remembered every corner of Arthur's huge house. It was like a map had been imprinted in his mind forever.

Slowly, he pushed open the bedroom door that he was so familiar with. As he walked over to the bed, he found it curious as Arthur had not wake up from his presence.

"D-Dude?" Alfred had actually found his voice trembling. He walked over to the unmoving form on the bed. He gently shook him and turned Arthur towards him. Said man didn't even move a bit from his moving. He turned on the bedside lamp and took a good look at Arthur.

_He wasn't breathing._


	2. An old book

**I'm back and this is posted bit earlier since I'm kinda busy this weekend... Yes, I'm a weekly updater :D I need reviews! I eat them for a living :DD Review please -bows- **

**EverlastingMemories: I hope so too...**

**American50Amber: Indeed! I think this chapter is rather depressing for the moment, but rest assure. I would actually start crying if he died... **

* * *

The sun finally reached its peak as the hands of the clock touched the number 12. It was very quiet, something Alfred could never get used to. He liked the noise that came from the arguments between Arthur and him. Yet now he was just holding gently onto Arthur's cold hands.

Lifeless. He was dead. Arthur Kirkland was dead.

Trembling, he reached the phone to call Francis again. Almost dropping the phone, his hands hit the speed dial. He prayed every minute that the monotone sound would stop and be replaced by Francis' voice. Oh right, he had to call his Canadian brother too, he was sure Matthew would pick up his phone no matter what time.

Funny, he didn't feel a bit excited about his birthday party anymore. His thoughts only focusing on the cold body that didn't have a heartbeat laid on the bed in front of him.

"Alfred!" The french nation's voice rang into his ears and interrupted his train of thoughts.

* * *

"D-Dude?" There was no reply from Arthur, he just continued to close his eyes and not breath. Alfred's blue eyes widened as he frantically tried to pump air into the smaller man's lungs by performing CPR. Arthur had made him learn it when he was younger, a year before he declared independance.

He had to stop thinking back and focus on his current task now. After god knows how long, he finally realised that it was hopeless to use that life saving skill anymore. He fell back onto the floor, as realisation hit him hard. If only he could have arrived earlier, he could have saved him.

His phone rang. He hadn't notice at first but after it a few moments, his ears finally registered the American national anthem. He slid his phone out from his pocket and answered.

"Bonjour, Amerique! Are you free now? We need to talk a bit. It's about Arthur." Francis' voice sounded through the speaker of his iPhone. After minutes without a reply, Francis pulled away from his phone to check if Alfred had answered at all. It wasn't like the American to be quiet.

"Amerique? ...Alfred? Is there something wrong?" Francis asked, slightly worried that something had happened to the younger nation.

"F-Francis. A-Arthur ain't breathing." Alfred cursed his trembling voice, it was the wrong time to panic now. Arthur will surely sneer at him now. No stop, Arthur is not here. No! He meant, Arthur isn't mentally here. No, wait...

Alfred was confused. Confused and panicking. His head was swarming with truth that he wanted to push out and deny everything. Arthur was just there, and he wasn't breathing. God...

"Arthur is not- What?! What happened?!" Francis demanded with a stern voice.

"I-I came to his house. I mean, I was gonna convince him to join my party this year. Yea. I'm here to convince him." Alfred took a deep breath, and his mind blanked out. "Then he was just lying there. I thought he was sleeping but when I went over, he wasn't breathing at all. I tried CPR, it just didn't work! Oh god... Francis, please, just come?"

Francis stopped in his tracks. That sarcastic, ex-delinquent, self-proclaimed gentleman England was... gone? At the very last minute, Francis had actually found himself unable to say that Arthur Kirkland was dead. Suddenly, he remembered that they were nations and he didn't know what... suicide of a nation could do to a country.

Grabbing the nearby remote control, he turned on his TV. There wasn't any broadcast that told them the end of England or in this case, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. In fact, the world seemed to be the same as ever.

Remembering that he had a distressed nation on the phone, he quickly replied back.

"Alfred, hang on. I'm coming over right now. I'll be there as soon as possible... I think it's best to tell your brother." He advised and Alfred unconsciously nodded his head as if the man was here. Then he dropped his phone after Francis ended the call, and he just sat there, staring at Arthur.

All Alfred wanted for Arthur to do was for him to just open his forest green eyes once more. He could vaguely remember the smile Arthur had shown him when he gave him his present yesterday. For once, Alfred could actually see the pain and sadness hidden behind the smile. He would say that he preferred the smile Arthur used to show when Alfred was younger. It was happy and cheerful.

"Arthur... Ahaha... I think I'm out of my mind, dude. I actually called you by your full name. I saw you smiling yesterday, you know. I like your smile that you have when I was younger. I don't like this one. I don't want it to be your... last one." Alfred mumbled, hoping sincerely that he would just jerk up from the bed, and everything would be just fine.

But it _wasn't_fine.

Alfred buried his face in his gloved hands and tried to calm himself. He had failed in his role of being a hero because he couldn't even save his _brother_. The brother that he had secretly still respected even after his independence.

'What's the use of a hero if he can't even save someone he loved...' Alfred could feel something wet trailing down his face. It took him quite a while before noticing that it was his salty tears trailing down.

_Did Arthur felt like that too?_

* * *

Knock knock knock. The impatient sounds of hand contacting the wooden door could be heard downstairs. The strong knockings swung the door opened immediately. Cursing that the careless American had actually left the door unlocked, he ran up the old stairs.

And saw the Alfred on the ground.

He ran over and checked Alfred's breathing too, for he feared the worst. To his relief, Alfred had only just fell asleep from the shock and exhaustion. There were tears that still ran from his eyes even when he was asleep. The french nation sighed and gently patted his head before going over to the cold body of Arthur Kirkland.

It was weird, to see the nation so still. It was curious, that the country England was still fine but its personification was already cold. Perhaps... he would stay dead for just a little while? There were still many healthy Britons and they were still moving like they should be.

_'The personification of a nation doesn't die unless they were no longer recognised by its own citizens. If the personification suffers from great wounds and appear dead, they would come back to life after a while, but it seems that the the personification would...'_

Francis suddenly remembered a paragraph from an old book when he was younger. Yet it seems that he could not remember what the last few words were supposed to be. He wished that his memory was right and Arthur would wake up soon, but he dared not put his hopes too high.

Knock knock. New knocking sounds came from downstairs again since Francis had actually remembered to lock the door. He was in no interest to be facing anyone that could be a threat to Arthur. Yes, they were enemies, but he still respected the english nation to some degree.

"France?" A muffled and quiet sound came behind the door. Francis immediately recognised the owner of the voice, it was Matthew. Unlike all other countries, he can differentiate the Canadian from his twin brother. He rushed downstairs and opened the door, leading the quiet nation upstairs.

Matthew gasped quietly when he saw Arthur. He frantically looked at Francis, wanting a sign that his older brother that had partly raised him was not lying there and it was someone else. France sadly shook his head. He then leaned forward Matthew's ear.

"Mathieu, there's something I remembered but it's for the best that you don't tell Amerique." He then told him the phrase from an old book he had recalled earlier. He had also told him he couldn't remember the last few words and it is best to not get their hopes too high.

"Okay... I'll... I'll bring Alfred to the guest room first." The gentle Canadian replied softly before carrying Alfred with his ridiculous strength. It seems that the twins had shared the same power of strength. Francis nodded, understanding the scene is rather harsh for both of them. It was harsh on him too, after all, he had spent centuries with him.

"Guess I will just sit here until he wakes up... I wonder if I should tell the other nations?" Francis pondered for quite a while, as he had managed to keep himself serious for the two younger nations.

"I think I should at least tell the more serious nations about Arthur." Francis spoke to himself as he pulled out his phone.


	3. Waking

**What is this, I don't even... Thanks for reviewing, following and favourite-ing this story! I wanted to have memory loss at first, but it seems to be that it would be too cliche, I wasn't expecting this either... I read too many Scotland England brotherly fics so this chappy ain't coming out too well this time. Sorry about late update by the way.**

* * *

"Moshi moshi, this is Japan."

"Bonjour, this iz France."

"Guten arbend, this is Germany speaking."

"Ni hao, France. This is early, aru."

"Buenas noches, Francis!"

After Francis had told them the terrible news, and warned them to best not tell anyone else yet, their tired and cheerful voices changed into a serious one.

"What?!" They all exclaimed in Francis' ear, even Spain had actually shown concern to his enemy since his pirate days. After a long silence, they decided they would come over by tomorrow. Until then, Francis planned to stay here in case Arthur does wake up.

He didn't even dared to put his eyes off Arthur, in case Arthur does stir even the slightest bit. And there he sat for hours, and noticed the sky turning darker. He then moved his stiff legs and walked over to the switch to switch on the lights, remembering to make it dim if Arthur happens to wake up.

Which he sincerely hoped so. By now, he had missed the constant bickering and noise in the large manor. He wondered how did Arthur stand the emptiness and lack of life in the huge place, then again, that was probably why he was lying motionless on the bed now. The old door creaked and Francis snapped his head to the direction of the noise.

"Francis..." It was Alfred and Matthew, both of them seemed to have been crying for some time, but their faces was wiped dry before coming into the room. Alfred turned his head and spotted a white paper on the study table. Alfred moved away from his twin brother to pick it up. There was only a very simple sentence on the paper.

_It was nobody's but my fault alone._

Why had Arthur think like that? Surely he had already gotten over the day that America declared independence. Or maybe not... Matthew took a peek at the paper and frowned, but he said nothing to his American brother.

"Igg- Arthur... what should we do?" The American refused to look at that direction anymore.

"The other nations are coming soon, though I didn't call Russia, if that iz what you were going to worry about." Francis answered softly, slightly paused in his words at times, and continued. "We'll see when they come. They'll reach by tomorrow..."

Then came the sound of blankets shuffling. Three pairs of eyes turned towards the noise and watched keenly. No one dared to move or breathe at all.

Then Arthur suddenly sucked in a huge breath, coughed then breathed in again. His pale eyelids slowly fluttered and dull green eyes slowly revealed itselves. It was not like the movies, as he had not jerked up from the bed and was lively once again. The process was painfully slow for the other three men. Then Arthur's eyes turned towards the trio, and its eyelid drooped again. Alfred was first to react to this.

"Arthur!" He shouted and hugged the blonde tightly. Canada and France then snapped back to reality. They also ran towards the blonde and smiled as they tackled him.

"Alfred...? Let go..."

"No way, dude!" America claimed at first, until he could hear the raspy breathing from the smaller man. He immediately let go and looked at Arthur carefully. His face was a sickly pale look and Alfred had a feeling that there was still something wrong even if he had woken up from a certain grave.

"Arthur?" The Canadian softly inquired, extremely happy but also sensed that there was something wrong going on. Francis frowned and tried to think back to what he had remembered from the old book. As much as he tried to, he couldn't.

Wait, he remembered something else instead. Arthur was a keen reader and he had loved to collect many old books, which indicated there might be a chance that he had the book in his library. Without further delay, Francis ran towards the direction of the library, leaving the two brothers to stare, confused.

"It iz not here. Not here. Not here..." Francis mumbled as he flicked through the section where the handwritten books were kept. Damn it, how did Arthur managed to read at such dim lit conditions? It was a wonder he hadn't worn any glasses yet.

"Found it!" A smile slowly made its way to Francis' face, as he flicked through the pages to look for the specific paragraph. As if on cue, the cold wind blew from outside through the window to turn the yellowed pages and the gentle moonlight casted itself on a section of the book, making Francis to look over.

_The personification of a nation doesn't die unless they were no longer recognised by its own citizens. If the personification suffers from great wounds and appear dead, they would come back to life after a while, but it seems that the the personification would have a mortal body and is as fragile as human bodies, or much more. The mortal wounds would take a longer time to heal and serious wounds would cause the personification to cease to exist.'_

So his dear Arthur was as fragile as any human?! He didn't want Arthur to be like Jeanne d'Arc, as she was so fragile but brave. What if some other nations decided to end Arthur once and for all? He knew a Russian that was very glad to be doing that.

"Francis...? What are you holding there? Is that the book that you told me so?" Matthew came into view and he worked out the situation rather quickly, as he was an intelligent person.

Francis nodded and he passed the book to his ex-colony. Matthew started reading before gasping in the process. Surely this was wrong? A personification of a nation was suppose to be unlike any other mortal beings. Yet a simple hug from Alfred had left Arthur to gasp for air earlier.

Cough. Cough. Cough. A string of continuous coughs were heard across the hallway and the duo could hear Alfred trying to comfort the Englishmen, but the sound continued. It sounded like someone was dying and Matthew didn't like it at all. He sped towards the room once again, almost losing his way in the large manor.

And he found the cause of the coughing. The window in his bedroom was slightly open and the harsh freezing wind was blowing into the room. It was just a slight cold but it seems that Arthur was more sensitive to usual, his body doubling over from the loud coughing. Francis returned to the room with a hot cup of tea, which he had conveniently found the directions of making tea in the kitchen.

For once, the stubborn man did not argued or questioned Francis, only to sip the hot liquid greedily, soothing his raw throat. After a long silence, Alfred lifted his eyebrows and stared at Matthew, wanting a detailed explanation for all this. Matthew dragged him aside and whispered into his ears what he interpreted from the paragraph earlier, only to have Alfred suddenly shouted in his ears.

"What?!" The poor Canadian covered his ears miserably, it was terribly loud.

"Oh my god, we gotta keep Arthur real safe! What if that creepy Russia comes along?!" Alfred attempted to whisper but his loud voice didn't help at all. Francis looked up this time and gave the brothers a warning glare before taking away the cup to wash. Matthew looked at Arthur again, his face trying to hide sorrow.

It wasn't just Arthur having a mortal body that scared him. It was the thinking and actions of Arthur that scares him. After what he had done earlier, Matthew was afraid he might do the same again.

And this time with a mortal body, Matthew is afraid that there wasn't a revive button anymore.


	4. Once again, I deserved it

**Sorry for extremely slow update! If you don't see any usual updates, you can check my profile. I tend to write a note there. It was my first writer's block that prevented me from updating early this time. Sorry guys. **

**Thanks to chukaliteluvver, EverlastingMemories and Woollytavern00 for your reviews, and all the followers and favourites the story gained~~~**

* * *

Arthur had not spoken after he woke up and Alfred was definitely not used to the quiet surroundings. He was after all an extremely loud nation and was used to Arthur's frequent complains of him. He willed with all his might that Arthur would even make a noise or even insult him. It didn't matter what it was as long as he could return back to the normal situation before this week.

Yet all these were real. Arthur had tried to commit suicide and now had a mortal body. He had actually prepared a note for this, probably had planned it long ago. Alfred didn't know the grumpy male had actually been depressed. It probably was because of that revolutionary war long ago, and guilt gnawed on Alfred's conscience.

That note… The words written on the note, had it been a proof that it was Alfred's fault despite the plain sentence? Had that simple letters hid a deeper meaning behind it? Or was it as simple as it looked and Alfred merely made it complicated. He didn't want his former guardian to think everything was his fault. He had a vague idea that Arthur thinks that he had raised him wrongly but the truth is that Alfred had grown up, and wanted to prove to Arthur that he was capable of making him proud.

He didn't plan for this. He didn't sign up for this. He didn't wage a war just for his former guardian to turn out like this. Alfred sunk into his deep thoughts and decided to cool his head off outside the room. Perhaps he would be able to think better like that. With that single thought, he walked out the large bedroom.

* * *

Arthur didn't feel like talking or anything. In fact, he wished he could have remained invisible like Canada. Why had they come to his house? Surely Francis knew about him going to wake up? His face had an expected look, as if he knew this beforehand. Would it be that the frog had also known about the one year limit of a mortal body? He didn't want anyone to notice anything wrong; this meant his façade had been revealed. He didn't deserve any of this attention. He was disgusting, hopeless beyond means, useless…

Stop! He knew these thoughts were unhealthy, he wanted to quit. Yet at the same time he couldn't bring himself to stop, he wanted to continue to self-deprecate himself. It was like being addicted to it, the pain that he managed to inflict himself mentally was…

Arthur shook his head again. It was rather impossible to get rid of these. It was like someone else implanted these into his brain and nothing else. He could hear the other nations downstairs. Matthew and Francis were explaining to the others about his condition.

The nations were rather loud in Arthur's opinion. He could clearly hear what they were saying from his bed. Some were genuinely shocked, some feigned concern and some laughed and said he deserved this. Yes, he deserved this and nothing else. In fact, this was the easy way out.

Yes, he definitely deserved this. Arthur looked around the room and saw a tie hanging on his clothes hanger. This would do it. He silently pushed the fragile wooden step-stool and tied a noose that hung from the ceiling. Saying his last prayers, he placed it over his neck and kicked away the stool.

Crash. The old stool broke into pieces as it fell onto the floor. All was silent again.

* * *

The soft shattering noise startled Alfred's thoughts and he sprung up from his sitting position on the floor and his large hands turned the door knob and rushed into the room. The scene he saw stunned him temporarily.

Arthur's body was hanging and swinging limply. He could see his lips were slightly turning blue and he went into immediate action. There wasn't any sharp object in sight so he rummaged through the older man's drawers. Most drawers were just clothes or paper works but he found a particular locked drawer. Trying his luck, Alfred drew out his gun and shot the bolt.

He then opened it and found some sharp penknives, diaries and even some toys from Alfred's childhood. He took out a penknife and ran across the room to Arthur's position. With a clean slice, Arthur fell motionless into Alfred's strong arms.

Alfred worriedly placed his hand to check for Arthur's breathing and pulse. Both were weak but it was still there. He breathed out a sigh of relief, but his hands still held onto Arthur protectively. He looked up when he saw the nations running to the room and Francis gave a meaningful glance towards Alfred.

'Is he alright?'

Alfred nodded stiffly, only unwrapping his arms reluctantly when Canada tugged Arthur away from him to place him on the bed. There were still some red markings on his neck and the nations that said he deserved it looked away guiltily. They didn't think it would be that serious.

Francis could only glare at them angrily, but he decided to not say anything about it.

* * *

Arthur woke up to the dim golden light. He was surprised that his surrounding wasn't pure white, as most theory of heaven would be. Maybe he didn't even deserved to be in heaven at all, and this was merely a delusion of hell. He had killed many people in wars after all. People who had families and friends back home. He had more blood on his hands than he could remember.

He turned around and saw Alfred, his relaxed form sinking into the antique armchair. Almost immediately, his previous ideas were erased. The last time he checked, Alfred was still alive and well. Unless Alfred is also…? The thought itself scared Arthur and he pushed himself to prop against the headboard.

The pain that filled his sore throat made him unconsciously groaned. Alfred, being a light sleeper, woke up immediately and looked around warily before remembering what happened. He sped to Arthur and eased him back down to the bed and tucked Arthur in.

Reaching out to touch Alfred, he felt that the lad was warm and very real. He immediately relaxed and felt the adrenaline rush gone, leaving harsh breathing from his throat. Remembering his earlier stunt, he looked away from worried Alfred, wondering why his ex-colony had saved him.

He should have just left him to die.

Alfred for once seemingly attained the ability to read the situation. He pulled Arthur into his arms and embraced the smaller man. Arthur stiffened at first but then relaxed, his tears rolling down his cheek without him knowing.

"Iggy… It's fine… Shhh…"

Arthur used to comfort the younger him when thunder storm came, and now, _it is time for Alfred to do the same for his brother._


	5. Freedom

**Sorry for super slow update! This story is kinda hard to write, in my opinion. I'm not sure about a weekly update for this anymore but I'll try my best! Glad this story caught someone's attention~ Cheers for yunike08 for her comment that made me rush my writing! \o/ Thanks for all the favourites and follows.**

* * *

The sun was shining bright yet the Brit was not awake yet. He had fell asleep after last night's cryings. One that all nations decide that it would be best to leave Alfred to this personal scene. One that Arthur spilt all his emotions into and felt a little better.

Alfred too, had fallen asleep from exhaustion in the armchair. The nations had decided to stay over, in case anything else happened. Arthur's house was relatively big, so they could fit into the guest rooms.

Some of the nations were early wakers, like Antonio and Ludwig. They were wandering around the lowest floor for breakfast. A noise attracted them towards the kitchen and they cautiously walked in.

Matthew and Francis was near the stove, one making pancakes and the other seemed to be dramatically making a buffet for breakfast.

"Bonjour, it seems that both of you iz awake. Come and have some breakfast."

Spain enthusiastically hopped over while Ludwig stiffly moved over. Matthew knew what they were going to ask as soon as they finished their breakfast.

"So... Anyone have ideas why Arturo is like that?"

Francis shook his head despite him having a vague idea about it. He was rather sure that Alfred was partly in fault, though he wasn't sure if the boy knew it or not. Deciding that Alfred always chose to not read situations, he probably didn't.

Suddenly remembering that Arthur had his own siblings as well, he grabbed his red phone from the kitchen table and went through his contacts. Finding the name he was looking for, he pressed the call button.

"Whit dae ye want, Francis."

"It iz Angleterre, Iain."

For once, the Scotsman on the other end of the call had paused all his work to listen to Francis. His face showed no difference but underneath his stoic look, he was panicking.

Sure, his other brothers and he had loved to tease and bully Arthur when he was younger but nowadays they had grown more mature to leave the youngest brother alone. It had been quite some time since Iain had found some time with Arthur alone.

"I'm comin'."

Iain had ended the call before Francis could make any replies and it made him sigh. Great, the last time he checked, Alfred and Iain argued much more than anyone else. It wasn't necessary for Arthur to have another disruption of the much needed peace.

"Good morning... Frog." A tired sounding voice rang from the top of the stairs. It seems that Arthur was awake now. Then was Alfred awake too?

Alfred stood protectively beside his former guardian, carefully looking after him while Arthur walked down the stairs without the older one knowing.

"You're awake, mon lapin!"

Said person scoffed at his old nickname as he helped himself with a serving of Matthew's pancakes, claiming to hate French cuisine and at the same time, refusing to touch any.

So has Arthur gotten over his depression? Francis sincerely hoped so, he preferred his grumpy Arthur with his honest scowl than this one, who hid everything to himself. He wasn't even sure if this was just another act to let them have their guards down.

Antonio and Ludwig seemed to have taken no notice, but they still kept a close eye at him. Maybe they were a bit too concentrated on one person, they slight jumped from shock from the offending noise.

Knock knock knock. The door trembled from the rapid knocking from outside. Francis and Matthew turned over, immediately knowing who was outside. Matthew meekly opened the door to a red headed, short tempered Kirkland.

Iain Kirkland gave no notice to Matthew for the first time, as he strode meaningfully over to his younger sibling. Roughly carrying Arthur up, ignoring all the latter's protests, he narrowed his eyes.

"What's wrang, laddie? Hae ye gotten tay emotional wi' 'at bairn ye raised?"

"It is none of your business, Iain."

"Aam serioos."

Unable to understand Iain's Scottish accented English, Alfred automatically assume that Iain was insulting Arthur again. He had not had much good experience with him anyways.

"Put him down, Scotland." Alfred said harshly.

Both Kirkland siblings immediately turned their attention towards the American. Iain carefully placed Arthur back to his seat as he came nearer towards Alfred.

"Whit ur ye daein' haur, ye brat."

"Talk English!"

"Ah am 'spikin sassenach, ye divit."

"I don't understand a single word! Anyways, you weren't supposed to come! I've got this all under control!"

"Hoo coods ye hae gotten everythin' under control if yoo're th' a body at faut haur!"

The argument was getting heated by every second and it would be fine if no one could understand the previous sentence Iain retorted. Unfortunately, there were a few who could understand his accent, namely Arthur.

"Enough! It's nobody's fault, okay? It was my entire fault and mine alone. I brought this upon myself."

With that, Arthur dashed outside of his house. He was rather grateful he had a change of clothes before going downstairs earlier but that wasn't the main point now. Both of his most important people in his life, which he wouldn't admit in front of them, was arguing because of _him_. He hated it, it would be better if...

Alfred and Iain had immediately stopped arguing and ran out to look for Arthur. For once, they concentrated in finding the Englishman together. They had ran across many streets, somewhat shocked that the fragile man could have ran that far.

"There!"

Arthur was walking in the middle of the road, his eyes were watering but he wouldn't allow the tears to fall down again. It was a sign of weakness. He hadn't seen the headlights flashing, the loud honks nor the truck coming at the speed of lightning towards him.

Yet Alfred saw that one tiny smile that Arthur flashed as he turned to look at the incoming vehicle. He could barely make out the words that Arthur had mouthed him.

'Alfred, welcome your freedom.'


	6. Diary

**Okay, sorry for extremely late update... I've got holiday so I made myself happy, yay much? Anyways, thanks American50Amber and A Shoulder To Lean On for their reviews. Really! And the follows and favourites! Thank you too~ I hope this is up to your expectations.**

* * *

Alfred stared out the window as he held onto Arthur's cold hands. The constant beeping was the only thing that reminded him that the Brit was still alive. The sun was already setting yet he just felt like he could stay up forever until Arthur wakes up. The last few words that Arthur mouthed him earlier that day was bothering him greatly.

Why? What had made him said that?

Yes, he had gained his freedom centuries ago, but he didn't want to turn out this way. In fact, in the war, he wasn't sure if he could have faced his former guardian on the battlefield with full hatred. Yes, it wasn't just Arthur who had cried that very day.

"Arthur..."

Iain looked back towards Alfred from his position by the window. He closed his eyes a while before moving to leave the room. He understood now, everything that didn't make sense earlier had now made sense. And now, he have one thing to do, which is to inform the rest of the UK brothers.

The door gently closed as Alfred held his grip more tightly, but still not harming Arthur. The surgery had taken nearly 6 hours, but time didn't matter. As long as Arthur gets to be alive, Alfred could wait for a millenium.

"You could have said something."

Alfred whispered to Arthur. The room was flooded with 'Get-well-soon' cards and flowers. Even Ivan had come and visit without creeping anyone out. He had brought his trademark sunflowers and left them in an empty flower vase.

Most nations had come to know about Arthur's situation and they suddenly gave a huge amount of affections towards him.

Why, why hadn't they gave him those affections and attentions earlier? Then maybe he wouldn't be sitting by the hospital bed, eyes red from the held-backed tears. Then maybe he wouldn't staring like a lifeless doll, looking out at the red sunset.

The same colour as the liquid that flowed from Arthur's body when the truck surpassed the speed limit. The same colour that stained his white shirt as he held onto Arthur in the middle of the road.

"Alfred?" A soft voice broke Alfred's thoughts.

Alfred merely turned his head over to look at his twin. In Matthew's arms were the stacks of diaries that Alfred had saw in the drawer yesterday. Alfred's eyes widen and he was quick to snatch the stack away from the Canadian. Signaling him to leave the room, he quietly closed the door, leaving Alfred to be immersed in the books.

It was rude to read other people's diaries, especially in front of the owner. But since the owner refused to let anything loose, there was only one way to find out how he felt all along. The diaries even had a bolt on each of its cover.

Using his strength, Alfred could easily break the bolt. Flipping to the first page, he slowly read each word, careful not to miss any clues. To his surprise, it started out on the very day he had met the young Alfred and not from earlier on.

_Dear Diary, _  
_I have met the boy that some nations had spotted some time ago today. Surprisingly, he hadn't ran away from me like they had described him as. I approached him and it seems that he wasn't afraid of me at all. It was interesting as he seems to be one of us. His golden hair and blue eyes were so mesmerizing that I had only remembered to return when the sky turned dark. It seems that he is unable to speak my language and we can't exactly communicate properly, I guess I would teach him that when I visit him tomorrow._

Ah, it still felt like yesterday when Arthur had came to the younger Alfred. At that time, he hadn't felt the need to cower away from the man. Instead he had felt a family attraction which lured him into attempts to communicate with the man.

Alfred continued.

_Dear Diary, _  
_Surprise took me when America had chosen me over that french frog! Despite him trying to lure the young one with the delicious cuisine! Yes, I am never admitting to the frog that his food is actually rather delicious. Anyways, it seems that the boy is able to learn things very quickly. It's only a few months but he can already speak to me in simple English! The only thing now is for him to stop pronouncing the L and R as W..._

Alfred chuckled, he remembered the days when he could only pronounce England as 'Engwand'.

_Dear Diary, _  
_I had given America a human name, which is Alfred. I named him after a great king who had helped greatly with my country. It also means elf or magical counsel, I pray that the magical beings in America would look after him when I am away. Somehow, he had grown attached to me and in return I had too. Every time I had to leave for affairs in my country, he would start crying and beg me to not leave him alone. After a few times, I had decided to make a toy box filled with soldiers so that the wooden soldiers would accompany Alfred in place of me when I leave. I do miss him dearly when I leave though._

Alfred hadn't known that Arthur had missed him when he left, he thought it was only himself who wanted company.

_Dear Diary,_  
_Alfred had grown very quickly. A bit too quickly, in my opinion. He's now taller than me, but that is not the issue. We are having many arguments these days. I don't like how this is progressing towards to..._

Alfred lowered his eyes a bit.

_Dear Diary,_  
_I can't believe it! Alfred had just told me that he wanted independence from me. No, I won't allow it! He must not leave! This world is too dangerous for him to survive in. He won't last very long if he was independent! I... I will be alone again..._

Alfred paused when he read the last sentence, he quickly put all his concentration on the next few entries.

_Dear Diary,_  
_As I had somewhat expected, Alfred had started a revolutionary war. I had tried my best to stop him as soon as possible. Currently it seems to be effective, which is good. I don't need, don't want Alfred to lose his innocent smile when he gets exposed to the outside world. This is bad, my hands are shaking badly, I should stop and rest but I can't... This strategy won't last very long, I should start planning soon—_

Alfred stared in surprise as he looked at the letter N. It seems that it was smudged with something red... Blood? He had no idea that Arthur was ill during the war. No wonder his handwritings were shaky and not neat like the previous entries and books.

_Dear Diary, _  
_I have lost. I couldn't prepare the strategy in time because I was unconscious for too many days. I shouldn't have rested, and now Alfred... had left me behind. It hurt, when he turned his back towards me. Iain brought me back here after I fell unconscious once more from both the overwhelming emotions and the illness. I am eternally grateful that he had brought me back instead of leaving me there alone again. This would be my last entry and my last proof that I once had a heart. Tomorrow will be a new beginning. Tomorrow I will be Arthur no more._

Alfred turned the page and found the next few pages torn and burnt off. It really was the last entry.

He frowned deeply. He... didn't know that that loneliness had bothered Arthur so much but who was he to say? He grew up in an environment which is filled with people coming and going, he wasn't exactly alone. Alfred flipped to the very last page which hadn't been torn and blanked out. There was no words or anything in the page. He closed his face to see for any marks and he ran his fingers over it. There was a few bumps and so but he couldn't read any alphabets out of it.

Curious, he kept trying again and again for anything. Too lost in his thoughts, he had not notice the book was glowing white from each time he felt for the bumps. When he had finally realised it, he was engulfed by the white glowing light.


	7. I'm England, not Arthur

**Really slow updates for this story, I was trying to gather some 'feels energy' so that I could project it on the story. ((famous amongst friends for the lack of emotions))**

**Thank you to Dawnshine and SunshineProject for your reviews! Erm, I suppose I succeeded a bit in making someone cry...? Sorry, lack of normal responses as well ((excuses))**

* * *

It was dark when Alfred first opened his eyes again. He moved, and heard a sound of water rippling below him. It seems that he was in the hospital no more, he wasn't that dense. This seemed to be another world from his own one, as he was quite sure that there was no place on Earth that was dark and never-ending, and anyone could walk on waters.

'This is weird. I've never encountered such before. The white light, it must have brought me here. Was it Arthur's magic?' Alfred wondered to himself, trying to break down the situation.

He continued to stride forward, in the endless dimension. How would he get out of here? Surely, he won't be staying here forever, will he? The reason Arthur had kept such a spell puzzled him. He knew about the magic, but he wasn't rather sure to believe him fully.

As he continued to walk on, the darkness soon turned into a field of grass and flowers. It seemed to be the same field where Arthur had found the young American. In front of his sight, a familiar silhouette in the distance greeted him. Alfred ran with all his might towards it, all the while shouting in process.

"ARTHUR!"

The shadow turned around, revealing Arthur's face, but no longer without sadness. Alfred beamed at him as he reached him, panting as he gripped his shoulders, afraid that Arthur would disappear anytime. Arthur looked at him as he smiled apologetically.

"It's England, not Arthur. I'm sorry, I'm not the one you are looking for, Alfred."

"W-What do you mean, I mean, you're kidding, right? You're Arthur, no? You looked Arthur and all..." Alfred's grip on the shoulder tightens, but 'Arthur' seemed to not be affected by it.

"I _am_England, but I am not Arthur. The one you are looking for, boy, is Arthur."

"I don't understand! Isn't England, Arthur?" He couldn't process any of this. This Arthur-look-a-like is telling him he isn't himself. Isn't Arthur the personification of England, the representative of United Kingdom of Northern Ireland and Great Britain? This is confusing him greatly.

"I'm the land," England started, seeing confusion written all over Alfred's face. "I'm just a land in a person's body. Arthur is the one who raised you up. He's the one who controls his emotions, the heart in this body," He proceeds to point to the area of his heart. "It only belongs to Arthur, not me."

Seemingly to digest a bit of the information, Alfred finally blinked his widen eyes, nodding slowly. After a moment of passing lots of emotions on his face, he finally settled with a look of determination.

"Then, Ar- No, England, how do I get Arthur back."

England seemed to think seriously a while, as his gears began to turn, before Alfred thought he saw a ghost of a smile floated across his features.

"It is only up to himself to choose." Alfred was about to protest before England cut him off. "But there is a way, to make him want to return."

"Tell me! Everything!" His words were almost speeding out from his mouth, and would probably get a speeding ticket if there was a word police.

England was about to begin when he opened his mouth, but everything seemed to impossibly dim even further, making the man to frown and mumbled. His words were almost a whisper to Alfred's ears.

"He doesn't want to..."

Instead of a bright light consuming him, this time, an abyss of darkness edged around Alfred's body, bringing him back to the hospital. He woke up with his head jerking up from the bed, as he heard the constant beeping of Arthur's heartbeat sped up.

A nurse rushed in first, slamming the emergency button as fast as possible. The doctors came next, potentially pushing Alfred out of the way to save the persona. The next few moments, Alfred blanked out, being pulled away by both his brother and Francis. He can vaguely remember his hands reaching out for Arthur before the room doors slammed in his face.

"Alfred! Leave the doctors to thiz." A voice with a French accent that he could vaguely remember dragged him back to reality.

"He- He won't die, right? Right? Please tell me that..."

Both french-speaking nations could only lower their gazes, not sure the answer to that as well. The opening of the patient room's door helped them out in their silence.

"Family of Arthur Kirkland?"

"Yes!" All three of them spoke together at once, and the doctor gave a questioning look before continuing his sentence after a clearing of throat.

"He is awake and you can visit him. Please be sure to give him enough rest as well, it is best to not agitate the patient in anyway." The doctor gave another glance at Alfred before he went his way.

He was awake! Arthur decided to come back after all! Alfred rushed into the room, careful enough to not make any loud noise as to _surprise _the patient. He quickly ran to his bedside and kneeled down to his eye level.

"Alfred." This mere word stopped Alfred in his track. No, this was not Arthur. This was the England he had met earlier, and so said the instinct in his brain.

"England?" Matthew and Francis puzzled at the formal calling from Alfred, as they tend to call each other's human names when they are having their personal times and not in business.

"Yes, it's me." Now they had puzzled more, somehow this Arthur was different, but they couldn't pinpoint where the difference was. It seems that Alfred had grasp the situation completely though.

Alfred lowered his head in disappointment; he had thought maybe Arthur would give him a chance to be... the hero to save him. Suddenly, he had an idea what to do convince Arthur to return to the conscious again. He stood up quickly, waving a goodbye to England and left the room, leaving the French duo to wonder their minds out. Before that, he looked him straight in the eye.

"Arthur... I'll be your hero, okay? So please let me make it all up for you."

Somewhere deep inside England's body, _warmth_ bloomed slightly in the harsh cold.


End file.
